Below the Tower
There is a begging inside you.
It starts to float into your hands.
It used to only be in your feet.
Your feet begin to take on more.
More than walking, now they throb
with destinations of sleep.
Sleep congregates and hangs
in your begging hours, gone
underground, next to the bell.
Nothing rings underground
except the broken bodies
of St. Lucian’s sleepwalkers.
The church addresses the ground
with its last brown brick. It wants
to say: Beg for this. Beg from deep inside.
Trista Edwards is poet, land mermaid, light witch, horror enthusiast, creatrix, traveler, feminist, and dog lover. She is also the curator and editor of the anthology, Till The Tide: An Anthology of Mermaid Poetry (Sundress Publications, 2015). She is currently working on her first full-length poetry collection but until then you can read her poems at The Journal, Mid-American Review, 32 Poems, Birmingham Poetry Review, The Boiler Journal, Sou’wester, Queen Mob's Tea House, and more. She writes about travel, ghosts, and poetry on her blog, Marvel + Moon (marvelandmoon.com).